Sermon: A Faithful Exercise

Who is wise and knowledgeable among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not be arrogant and lie about the truth. This is not wisdom that comes down from above but is earthly, unspiritual, devilish. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.
Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it, so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.

James 3:13-4:3,7-8a

My sermon from the 18th Sunday after Pentecost (September 22, 2024) on James 3:13-4:3,7-8a.

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One of the things I did while living in New York City that I had never done before, nor done since, was join a gym. I am not the most athletic person in the world so I knew I needed a little help to make sure I actually used my membership. So I chose to make myself attend a weekly fitness class but one that wouldn’t ask me to do too much. The class I picked was pilates – specifically the version that doesn’t use any machines. We would use our own bodies to be the resistance that could increase our flexibility, balance, and stability. Pilates was invented in the 1930s by a guy literally named Joseph Pilates. He came up with a series of movements and breathing exercises that feels a lot like yoga. I attended the class for a while but none of the so-called health benefits stuck with me. However, one idea from that class that still lingers is how it taught me how to pay attention to my core. Growing up, coaches, gym teachers, and even the director for my high school marching band would tell me to focus on my core. Yet exactly what that was – and how to tend to it – wasn’t always described. My core seemed to constantly change depending on whatever sport or activity I was doing. As a kid, I focused on what I could see results from – such as marching in formation across a football field or trying to get a lacrosse ball into a goal. But now that I’m older, paying attention to my core – the foundation that supports how I live in the world – is something I take a bit more seriously. Wondering, pondering, and recognizing the core of who we are isn’t only about what is physical; it also includes our emotional, mental, and spiritual health too. And in our reading today from the letter of James, we’re given a kind of Jesus-centric routine we can use to discover the God who is already with you. 

Now over the last few weeks, James’ answer to the question – what does a faithful person look like, act like, and be like? – hasn’t been the most positive. His focus has mostly been on what it shouldn’t look like instead. For James, our fears, insecurities, the mistakes we make, the words we use, and how others experience us often reveals what we truly believe. And this belief isn’t merely merely bits of information we keep in our head or a series of religious statements we choose to agree with. Rather belief is what we trust when everything else comes undone. Belief, then, is at the center – the core – of who we are. And I like to imagine this core as containing all the thoughts, feelings, experiences, history, and those bits about ourselves we understand and even those parts that we do. It’s all of this that fuels what we do in the world and why we talk before we listen or remain silent when we should speak up. It’s our core that shows partiality towards those who we want to be rather than caring for those who need the gifts God has first given us. And while it would be one thing if our core only impacted ourselves, James knows that what we do, say, and even post makes a difference to those around us. James names this kind of core identity as the “wisdom of the world” which uses our own understanding of power, generosity, abundance, and our fears as the fuel for what we do. This kind of wisdom is, on its own, pretty small – choosing to see things as we want them to be rather than as what God knows they can be. What we need is something outside of us which can stretch us away from our ways and into Gods. 

And that thing, for James, is known as “wisdom from above.” It’s a word, a voice, a grace, an experience from the divine that makes an impact in our here and now. James described this wisdom with several attributes, identifying this wisdom as pure which – as imperfect people – ends up being hard for us to describe and see. Yet James, in an unexpected way, also sees God’s wisdom as being very gentle. I often experience wisdom as a kind of corrective, countering what we imagine to be right and true. Wisdom reminds us of the fullness of our story, using our traditions as a way to ground us through whatever change might come. Wisdom, then, can be fiery and harsh, especially if it uses fear as a way to hold us to what it believes to be true. But the kind of wisdom James imagines is bigger than a word to constrain us. Wisdom from above will, and does, change our core. It is a kind of outside presence that, in the words of Pastor Casey Sigmon, is a “nodding, listening, [and] asking those self-awakening questions that help [us] to hear the wisdom of God [already at] the core of [our] being.” This presence isn’t coercive, manipulative, nor does it bully us. Rather, it opens us to see how we get to make peace, beauty, and abundance real in our world. It’s this wisdom that allows us to yield, to pause, and to listen with a kind of non-judgmental curiosity that sees the image of God in those around us. The wisdom from above is full of mercy – showing others what love, joy, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control can look like in the world. And it’s this wisdom we get to listen to since, because of our baptism and through the gift of faith, the God who lived like us to show us what life can be – is already at the core of who we are. 

Now knowing how to care for our core isn’t always easy which is why James hints at a routine anyone can follow. We are invited to draw near to the God who has already drawn near to us. It’s natural to think that since Jesus has made us a part of his body, his family, and his community through baptism and faith – we shouldn’t need to draw near to him since he’s already here. Yet we also know that Jesus’ presence doesn’t mean we get to be anything but human. We’ll never, in this life, fully expand our imagination to see what our life with our God can truly be about. We will regularly speak before we listen; rage before we accept responsibility; and ask others to forgive us before we forgive them. What we need is something outside of us – like a community of like minded imperfect people who, with a word, a Spirit, and a bit of time and energy – to help all of us strengthen the core of love that’s already here. This is one of the reasons why we are connected by something more than simply the bonds of friendship, family, or even physical proximity. It’s why we worship, pray, sing, confess the truth of who we are and how our God is so much bigger than we can possibly be. When we draw near to each other we are drawn near to God since Jesus is already in the core of the person next to us. By making the time and the commitment to support one another through the good times and the bad, we are doing more than exercising who we get to be. We’re also exorcizing from ourselves and our community the anger, the hatred, the selfishness, and lack of imagination that keeps us away from each other and our God. 

Amen.